


On the Desk

by Faestae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Desk Sex, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Professor Ren, Secret Lovers, arranged sexual relationship, female orgasm, professor/collegestudent, voyerism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faestae/pseuds/Faestae
Summary: Professor Ren is the toughest instructor at Corellia University.He's sharp, calculated, and his stare could pierce reinforced steel two times over.
Failing his teacher aide circuit means dropping out of the university altogether, but only a handful of students have ever survived it.
You seem to forget that your scholarship is on the line when you're late to the lecture on Monday wearing remnants of last night's party--
Your favorite miniskirt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bestwithalisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestwithalisp/gifts).



> Another one you may have known to exist. This was originally for Beth, but I went through an emotional crisis and axed it. I will be reviving it~! Hooray!

It was your week with Professor Ren. You studied the curriculum for that week days in advance, reading over his handwritten notations and references, desperately trying to make sense of the things he could say. After all, it was your duty to transcribe it in each lecture. He didn't use tape recorders like most professors; he preferred someone sitting there, taking his notes for him.  
Someone he could look at, and someone who wouldn't take his eyes off of him. You weren't the right person for this job. You knew that much to be true.

When he talked, to say you were utterly distracted would be an understatement. The way he paced the floor, shoes shined to perfection, arms flexing as he spoke to the auditorium, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, muscles shifting under his fair flesh; it was mesmerizing. He had a presence unlike any of the other professors on campus, one of a pornographer's missed opportunity for a starring role. He was tall, slender, dark hair was lightly combed over, fluffed out attractively around his ears, his nose was prominent offering an attractive profile that didn't stop there. His lips were soft and plump, getting caught on his tongue while he licked them. Altogether with his partial framed spectacles, his profile was something out of the fine art department, but that was buildings away across the campus and he was here, and you watched him.

“So what we have here,” he continued, “is a prime example of how literature influences the world we live in today,” his voice echoed through the lecture hall with ease, vibrating almost suggestively on the seats though the ears of his students. “George Orwell wrote 1984 in 1948, published in 1949. But the question is--”

Reaching the front of the desk, he leaned back. You held your breath watching his arms flex as they folded across his chest. “--did Orwell really predict the closeted dystopia that was to come?” he rolled the pen between his long flexible fingers before taking a moment to breathe before continuing his statement.

“--Professor Ren?”

It was a girl sitting near you. She was a pretty thing, maybe with days worth of sleep on you, blonde hair pulled up into a clean pony tail. You pulled your shoulders straight when his attention was drawn to her, as he could see you directly behind her. You froze. He nodded in her direction.

She stood and you rolled your eyes. “Would it be reaching to consider society crumbling to match Orwell's dystopia rather than Orwell himself predicting it?” she asked. You realized you hadn't been writing again. _Shit. What was the question again?_  You doodled a heart in the margin.

A smirk passed between his lips and he pushed himself off the table, beginning to pace again. Pen at the ready, you began to write down his words. For real this time.

“No, I don't believe it would,” he said. “I think you brought up an excellent point.” You weren't sure if the sentence you just wrote made any sense, but his smile was burned into your head. It clouded your thought and you tried to write—something--anything.

You must have been shifting too much, because his eyes caught your form in the darkness. Your knees pushed together, your skirt did poor work keeping yourself concealed. It was then you looked up, to see his eyes stuck on you, maybe for a second too long, his amber eyes traveling to your knees before turning away. “But one thing has remained true..” his eyes were on you again; his gaze was hard and erotic. “Big brother is watching.”

You clenched.

A far away clock tower chimed and it echoed against the doors of the lecture hall. He turned back to the hall as the student began filing out, “Your term papers are due in three weeks. I will not be  
accepting late work. Y/N,” he beckoned you with two fingers.

The pen you were holding flew from your hand and you slam your hand on the pile of notes you had been scribbling. Shit. You swept up your hand-written notes into your arms and stumble to the front of the lecture hall. You pushed past students that were on their way out, including the beautiful blonde but you kept pushing against the current. _Ugh, she smells like vanilla_. Finally, you reached him, and you had to pull yourself back to stop yourself from colliding with the stage, and in turn, his perfection.

Ren hopped down off of the stage with his hand out. As neat as you could manage them, you put your notes in his hand. “Excellent lecture today, Professor,” you said shoving your own glasses back on your nose, “Great—it was really great,”

Licking his finger, he thumbed them briefly, flipping through each page looking at them over his glasses. He never said anything to you, just your name from time to time, followed by the next time he'd see you in the prep room. His profile again, so strong, yet so soft. You were sure you'd soak your panties watching him doing something as mundane as brushing his teeth. _But that could_ _insinuate you slept together?_ You blushed.

“Good,” he says simply. _Good_. Relief washes over you all at once and you let go of that breath you didn't know you were holding. He turns around, sifting the papers in his powerful hands, stepping back up onto the stage “Tell me, are you prepared for tomorrow's presentation?”

Tomorrow's presentation? Ice in your chest immobilized you and you tried to keep your face as focused as you could be. You knew better than to be ignorant in his presence, especially in regards to his presentations. They were the talk of the university after all, a true show of the prowess of the Corellia University teaching staff, and Professor Ren was consistently the most anticipated speaker. His words, delivered like a hand sliding over silk could convince even the most stubborn horses to drink without fuss, and you never saw a female far from the front row.

“Yes, professor,” you replied.

“How could you be?” his voice was suddenly and alarmingly cold as he leaned against the table over your notes. The muscles in his arms flexed as he crossed his ankles, “There is no presentation tomorrow,”

You swallowed hard, your entire chest going from cold to feeling like it was going to collapse on itself. Clutching your folder against your chest, you cleared your throat, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

“I suggest you pay less attention to me and more to my curriculum, Miss Y/L/N,” he said without looking at you. “Your work is sloppy, unfinished, I bet I could pull the student who sits in the back sleeping every week for better notes.” He stared hard at you, awaiting a response from you, but you were too busy trembling. You remained silent. With his acrobatic pen, he marked your daily report. “Your marks this week will reflect your negligence,” he said flatly.

Embarrassed, your gaze dropped to the floor, the ice in your chest melting away with the pink that flooded your cheeks “I apologize professor,” you voice was leaving you and when you collected  
yourself, he had his coat on, his book in one hand.

As he passed you, he dropped your notes back into your arms, pulling his leather satchel over his shoulder. “I expect these to be transcribed by prep tomorrow morning,” he said easily, his voice  
was so smooth, you could practically see it drip from his lips. You hated it so much.

“And—Y/N?”

_God, now what?_

Professor Ren stopped before passing you, leaning down to your ear. You froze, feeling his presence radiating around the lose hairs at your ears, “I suggest keeping the exposure of your thighs at a minimum,” his voice was husky and soft, tickling your eardrum, sending arousal dripping down our chest into your panties, “Lest Big Brother watches you a little too closely,”

So caught up in his words, you didn't feel the pages slipping from your hands, and before you could realize it, it was too late. Your notes fluttered to the floor in a flurry of half- completed  
sentences and doodles of hearts in all the corners. Muttering profanities under your breath, you fall to your knees to scoop the papers up.

“Wear your best tomorrow,”

You raised your head as he made his way towards the lecture hall doors.

“Tomorrow's lecture is yours.”

Ugh.

\--

  
To stand at the podium the next day was to feel like all eyes were on you, except they weren't really. You had the attention of a few students closer to the front, but the further up the seats went,  
the less attention you seemed to garner. It wasn't that you were boring, or that Professor Ren was just that more interesting than you, you just felt safe, the podium hiding your shaking legs.  
Besides, you liked leaning against it, offering a charming silhouette that rivaled even the professors, but he wasn't looking. He was just leaning back in his chair, ankle up over his knee, writing in  
his report.

“Orwell's idea of the Party, isn't so different that the system of government that's already in place, is it?” you asked. Elbows on the wood, you kicked one ankle behind the other, “Ask yourself,” you  
shifted the weight from one hip to the other, “Where is the Ministry of Peace? Ministry of Plenty?” you paused, “What about the Ministry of Truth? Who is in charge of what we know and what we  
don't? The CIA? And who controls them?” The words were coming to you easily now and confidence swelled in you. Professor Ren's eyes were busy jotting notes down on the paper, so you continued,

“I want you all to pay attention to this message,” you continued, “Whether Orwell has warned us, or the world collapsed around this idea of a closeted dystopian society, you must listen. Identify  
authority in your life, understand it. Authority--”

“Y/L/N.”

Your next words died on your tongue.

Two hundred pairs of eyes, including your own traveled the room to Professor Ren, who was still leaning back in his chair, his presence gathering and settling around him. Once he was sure he  
had the attention of everyone in the room, even the slacker in the back, he spoke, “Why don't you speak to the class instead of to your podium,”

Your chest went cold, and you braced yourself against the warm wood where you had made yourself comfortable. The class stirred quietly, but your rapidly pounding heart didn't stop you from  
obeying.

“Authority,” you took one shaking step out from behind the podium, and instantly the tension was gone, “should be challenged.” The hem of your skirt dangled around your thighs and the room  
locked up, or at least you though it did. His comment about your legs rang in your head all night. Now, what better way to talk Orwell than to defy Big Brother? You were all thigh today, and he  
noticed.

Ren was leaning forward now, unblinking, watching each step you take towards the front of the podium. Heel to toe, you strutted, pushing the sleeves of your blouse to your elbows. Perhaps not  
meaning to adopt his mannerisms, you continued the lecture, “As civilians, you have power over authority. Orwell makes it a point very clearly, very often that you have every right to know what  
goes on behind their closed doors.”

Oh, he was watching you now; both feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, and his long fingers pressed against his lips. Between his fingers was his pen, very still, having not written a damn word.

Avoiding his eyes intentionally, you scanned the lecture hall, “Big Brother may be watching you,” you said slowly. Casually, you leaned against the desk, folding your arms daintily across your chest.  
“But that doesn't mean you can't watch him back.” You finally caught his gaze, and it pierced yours like ice.

From outside, the clock tower chimed, and there was a long pause before anyone moved. When they did, you sighed, pulling your hair back out of your face with a smile, “Any term paper topics  
not approved by Professor Ren won't be graded!” you said happily. Crossing your ankles, you watched the students file out still avoiding the penetrating glare of the professor.

Soon, the lecture hall was empty, leaving only him and only you.

Professor Ren clapped once, then again, slowly.

He was standing when you turn your head to him. His hair was fluffed, as usual containing evidence of a single pass through of his long fingers. In his blue collared shirt, he looked so strong, buttons strained at his sternum, “ _Brava_ ,” he said with a hint of a smirk.

No breath you could have taken would be deep enough to calm your racing heart. You felt strangely equal, like you were finally worthy of his praise. Especially after yesterday's embarrassment.

“As I only expect excellence from you,” the professor stated easily, looking down at you through his glasses, “You seem to have taken your driving point from today's lecture to heart,”

This, you were guilty of. The same skirt he reprimanded you for sat daintily around your hips and you showed him, oh you showed him. Straightening your shoulders, you rested your hands on  
your hips. “I made a conscious decision,” you admitted, “I take any lecture given to me seriously. I'm proving a point,”

“Your defiance of my authority will not go unnoticed,” he said plainly slinging his satchel over his shoulder, “You will report to my office immediately for your quarterly performance review,”

“Professor!” you blurted. Catching yourself, you slowed down and tried your second method of reasoning, “Professor Ren, I just completed my performance review last week. Its why I was  
assigned to you,” you paused, “sir...”

But Ren wasn't listening. He was already making his way to the opposite side of the lecture hall that lead to the office building. “My office, Y/N. Now,” he ordered, “Unless you prefer to be relegated, I heard the art department is looking for an assistant to mop the pottery room floor.”

You couldn't argue with that.

\--

Professor Ren's office was unlike anything you had ever seen. As someone brimming with old money as he was certainly living up to that rumor. Dark mahogany hardwood floor clicked  
underneath his shoes as he entered, pushing the door open for you. You walked by him, catching a whiff of something you've never smelled before. It was his usual mint finish, but there was  
something else..something softer—intimate. Whatever it was, it met your heart with romantic panic, and you caught a glimpse of his clenched fist as you passed.

On one side of his desk was his writing chair, a massive thing decked with brass and velvet. And on the side you entered, two equally lavish chair,s maybe not as tall. All along the walls were  
books on shelves that looked so old, it predated even the establishment of the university. As grand as it was, it was incredibly cold but that made sense to you. After all, it was Professor Ren's office. When you reached one of the two large guest chairs, you turned back around just in time to see the professor press the door shut. He didn't seem himself, or maybe that was just you. Maybe  
wearing that skirt to prove your point was a little too much. And under Professor Ren you had no room or business to be petty.

“On the desk.”

“What?

When he eyed you, you knew there was something wrong..something wicked in his eyes. “Your evaluation begins now. You will do as I say. Sit..on..the desk.”

Suddenly, you decided it was not a good idea to pull your confidence-panties out for today. Sitting on that desk would reveal you to him and as you put your hands back on the mahogany, you  
came up with a plan: jumping with your knees to the right would give you the leverage you need to keep your knees together.

But you obeyed, and despite your plan to avoid flashing him, your knee slipped and you braced yourself in between your thighs against the desk.

In an instant, Ren swept towards you, placing his cold hand against your inner thigh. You jumped, lifting your head, and before you could protest, your noses were touching. You clenched your  
panties with your womanhood, trying if at all to retract yourself away from him. But his hands were so soft, rubbing you in small circles with his massive hands.

His hands were so cold, like his stare that bore into your eyes through his Ray Bans, and fear replaced itself with lust. But suddenly, the fear was back. He was your Professor. And this scene was  
something straight out of that porno you figured he'd star in; a handsome, raven-haired prince with hands cold as ice, and you, an unsuspecting assistant whose skirt was short for one day too many.

“I consider myself generous,” he whispered, that soft mint washing over your lips. He rolled his nose on yours and you shuddered, his palm inching up towards your warmth. “I also consider how poor your marks have been this week. Do you deny this?”

“No,”

“No,” he echoed, “you don't.” He slid closer if that was even possible, slipping his other hand around your waist. How could it be his desk was the perfect height to cradle your pelvis to his?

Without much time to consider the coincidence, he cupped you against him, your lace coming into contact with his bulging desire behind his dark slacks. “And since you seem so fond of dressing like this in my presence, I have half a heart to offer you a proposition,

He paused, taking a moment to allow your cheeks to turn pink, watching every twitch of your nose and lips as he slowed down, drinking in the sight of you. His hand hadn't stopped circling your skin, tickling the soft skin that he was claiming with his presence.

“Be my whore,” the word sent a chill down your spine and drew your womanhood even farther away from him, but he kept you pinned, “and I'll pass you for the rest of the term no questions asked. In other words...”

You didn't even realize you're holding your breath. He shifted his shoulders, pressing himself even closer to you.

“Agree to these terms,” his lips were dangerously close now, gravity playing against you, drawing you closer, but he refused to kiss you. Not yet. “And not only will you be required to give me what I need...” he paused, lowering his voice, “but your negligent behavior in my lecture hall will be overlooked as well and replaced with the passing marks you don't deserve. Disagree--”

You swallowed hard.

“--you will walk out now, neither you or I will ever speak of this again, and you'll be removed from the program with the lowest marks the teaching council will ever bear witness to.” He let his honeyed eyes find yours again from staring at your lips, your foreheads coming together in a flush of warmth, “Do you consent?”

A whore. His whore. If that meant more of his hand caressing you, then it was more than you could want. Even before you could reply, he scooped your hips closer to him, grinding his boner on your lace. You sighed onto his lips and he pushed his hand around your thigh to your ass, warm and soft against his cold desk

“Yes.”

When you inhaled again, your lips came together.

To kiss Professor Ren was to die and be born again. His lips, the same lips you watched for weeks speaking hard truths and poetic justice to the masses of student every day were just as soft as the  
voice that wafted from in between them. He groaned quietly against your mouth as he moved your mouth with his own.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, breathing him deeply through your nostrils and letting your eyes shut, lest your arousal spikes enough to beg for his mouth in other places. When you opened  
your eyes again, slowly, and sleepily, you could see his cheeks turn pink under his glasses as he made work of your panties. He slipped his fingers inside the lace and slides his hands towards his  
hips, pulling your panties off of your hips. He balled them in his fists and threw them in the pile with his coat.

Still cupping your hips, he slipped one of his finger into your sex, at the same time opening his mouth to accept your tongue between his lips. It was all so romantic, this moment he drew from the deepest depths of your fantasy, unraveling it and spelling it against your womanhood that was so..unbelievably wet.. you gasped when he teased you, writhing against his hand. He caught your  
bottom lip in his teeth when you pulled away, remaining as still and stoic as he always way.

“Lay back,” he groaned, letting your lip peel away from his. With two fingers, he pushed you back onto the desk, papers shuffling under your back as you felt your hips being lifted, your skirt  
falling up around your hips. Ren pushed your skirt up around your torso, not wasting time dawdling. Dropping to his knees, he put himself inches from your heat, bracing you by your ass  
that shivered against his desk.

Sinfully, he buried his mouth into your sex, his prominent nose rolling around your untouched clitoris, sending a surge of pleasure through your tummy that hit you like a ton of bricks. Sucking  
on your folds, he tasted your desire, struggling to breathe and satisfy his hunger for you simultaneously. He settled with tongue fucking you, his moans vibrating along your inner thighs.

“P-Professor,” your voice was trembling like your heart as you suppressed wave after wave of heat that swelled from your womanhood. You fought the urge to suffocate him with your thighs just to keep his mouth on you.

He flashed his eyes at you, his honey-colored gaze peering at your from the other side of your tummy through his glasses. You clenched and he felt it, gripping you even tighter than before, not  
letting you back away, not for anything. He's slurping you now, sucking shamelessly on your sex and tonguing your clit hard enough to illicit whimpering moans from your lips, moans that made  
him harder with every iteration.

“Come, whore,” Ren growled. “Let me taste you.”

It was too soon. He had only been urging for you for a few minutes. It would take much longer to unravel yourself onto his tongue. “I—hahh-I can't,” you panted leaning back even farther, desperate  
to pull one of your legs up over his shoulder. Without moving his mouth, he caught your thigh in midair. He kept it pressed up, your toes curling in pleasure.

“Wrong.” Without hesitation, he sucked your clit between his lips, biting down on it. The scream that came from you sent a chill down his spine, as he followed up tonguing your sensitive nub against its natural curve creating a moist friction that urged your orgasm faster than you could catch it. Glasses fogged with his heavy panting against your entrance, he raised only his eyes “I won't tell you again, whore. Come.”

By his sheer will, you obeyed, shame washing over your face. Your breathing was already out of control, but he wasn't through with you. Sucking your come from your sex, he leaned up, unzipping his trousers quicker than you could press your hands against his chest. He fought you, slipping his hand behind your head, pulling your torso back up into a sitting position. Your sliminess slid you closer to his exposed shaft and you gasp as it pressed against you. He was undressed already? No..just his belt and trousers that had clattered to the floor.

He slowed down, and with his cock in his fist, he smeared his pre-come along the outer lips of your womanhood, “Do you feel that, little girl?” he whispered. You nodded, his lips coming dangerously close to yours again, waiting for your eyes to tell him you were desperate for penetration, “Do you feel what your slutty skirt does to your professor?” Ren inhaled, teasing with the tip, pressing his swollen head in between the lips of your labia, teasing your true entrance.

In between kissing you, he's speaking, anxiously, trembling with arousal. “I should put you over my knee and spank you for turning me on like this.” he moaned low in his throat, sucking hard on  
your bottom lip. You sighed onto his mouth and he moaned again with you, “but no...you fucking filthy slut, you just want to be fucked don't you?”

His cock passing over your swollen clit drew another pained groan from you. You could feel your heartbeat throbbing deep inside of your sex, and you begged with your eyes.

“Beg for my cock, whore.”

“Please, professor!” you cried, but your voice breaks and its weak under the heavy stimulation he urged you with. “F-f..”

“Say it.” he breathed.

Cheeks as red as the bow on your panties in that pile across the room, you bite your lip, “F-fuck me,”

Before you could breathe, he buried his cock into your sex. The pleasure was immense. Unlike any other man's cock inside of your womanhood, Ren's was thick, taking up every inch of you, rubbing perfectly across every ridge of you, smearing his precome. You fought the urge to lean back and he held you forward, never more than an inch away from his cock as it pounded you.

You slid across the desk with ease as he braced himself against you, using the juices from your sloppy womanhood to slide himself in and out of you. Coupled with the force of his own thrusts, he was fucking you in quick succession, quite hard, the sound of slapping flesh fueling his lustdriven frenzy. Drunk on his passion, he moans on your lips, “God you're so fucking wet,” he grunted, “you feel so fucking good.”

But you just wanted to kiss him. In between his painfully arousing thrusts, you reached up taking his cheeks, his glasses getting knocked by your trembling fingers. Securing your grip on him, you pulled his lips to you and he kissed you ravenously. He inhaled sharply, his climax coming fast-- soon. He couldn't hold on much longer. With a howl, he shoved you back, yanking his throbbing cock from your pussy coming hard onto your thighs, his seed thick and heavy on your leg as he smeared himself on you.

Panting, he raised his eyes to your face, flushed pink from his exertion. Collapsing into him, you fall back into a kiss, that he accepted graciously, licking his saliva from your lips. Romance  
returned in the moment you curled up in his arms, massaging your lips with his own. He tucked your body close to his, opening his eyes slowly as you pulled apart.

“Tomorrow...” he said quietly, “you will report to prep one hour early.” He whispered. “Leave your panties at home.”


	2. In the Prep Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Ren ordered you to the prep room an hour before the lecture and without your panties. Not only were you late, but you forgot the latter too.
> 
> Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two! Hope you enjoy!

You were late to the prep room.

The professor told you to be there before six and that was only when you woke up. Needless to say you were dressed within seconds, still wearing yesterday's gritty panties, and out the door by 6:10.

You almost forgot what had happened to those panties—hardly even remember picking them off the floor. You remembered washing yourself that night sorting what was real and what was fantasy as you scrubbed what remained of Ren's saliva and cum that had dried on you. It was around then the realization hit you, once every 10 minutes or so.

You fucked Professor Ren.

No. _He_ fucked _you_. It was not your idea—frankly, you were terrified. But when he looked so intently at you, unmoved, cool and collected, you cracked. And when you finally laid down in your dorm room bed, you decide that bastard played you-- using your desire to pass the teacher aide course as leverage to get your legs open. Rolling over, you justified your actions:

You couldn't stomach losing your scholarship over something as trivial as abstinence.

You made to Skywalker Hall by 6:12 and by 6:15 you were nearly there, careening down the nearly empty hallway, with your binder in your arms. You struggled to keep your papers from flying away while you laptop threatened to tip out of its case as it bounced on your hip.

This wasn't right. Sexual relations for the sake of grades? With your professor? To deny this was something straight out of a porno would be criminally offensive. Hot clothed teacher fucks slutty teacher aide on desk with fat cock. Selling that masterpiece would settle your debt to the university. You wouldn't even need to pass this stupid teacher aide course. You could fail it and flee to the art department; Ren told you Miss Hanniford was looking for a teacher aide to mop the pottery room floor. Suddenly that didn't sound so terrible.

When you rounded the corner, you slammed someone—hard. You staggered backwards, flailing your arms looking for something to grab to keep you on your feet. You were caught by the wrist and when you look up, relief washes over your face, “Ben?”

You hadn't seen Ben since you let the door slam on your not-relationship. You were in it for the cock and he was in it for the “sweetest cunt he's ever tasted”. That was after your first semester at Correllia and his snide comment about something you couldn't even remember, left you flustered and he tried to charm you back for the tenth time. It failed, you slammed his own door in his face and you never spoke again, despite being in the teacher aide program together.

“Hey, kid,” Ben said with a grin. “Long time no see,”

“Ben..” You suddenly became aware of the stench coming from your day-old unwashed panties. For Ben that smell was akin to a mating call; blood in the water and he was the shark. “Yes—I am—sorry—a-are you alright?”

Ben laughed that delicious laugh and you felt even more guilty—as if he could see every mistake you made in the last 24 hours. The shame that the cum you scrubbed from your legs wasn't his and your mounting paranoia insisted that he knew everything. After all, Ben could always read you like a book; it was how he always won you back. Always. “I'm fine--Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost,”

It sure felt like it—it's been months since you've seen Ben. You convinced yourself that was the way it had to be. That to see Ben again, to fall into his trap would be to get swept up and trapped like you were before. To see his face again so suddenly terrified you, but his smile made your heart melt. You nod rapidly, “Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine—I am so sorry—” You peek over his shoulder at the clock in the hallway. It was stopped.

Shit.

“How've you been, kid?” Ben folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the corner you had whirled around, “You look good,”

You slapped your own jean pocket looking for your phone, but not feeling it in your back pocket, you reached into your laptop bag. You still can't find it, “I've been good—been busy,”

“You got Professor Ren this week, huh” Ben says, still smiling at the panic that was plaguing you as you fumbled for the time, “How's he treating you?”

You brought your eyes back to his handsome face, dark hair tossed across his forehead, eyes a green you've only seen on spring mornings back home. But when your eyes met his, they filled with fear, “Uh—yeah! Fine—just fine—uhm do you have the time? Like what time is it—right now?”

He pulled back the sleeve of his grey cardigan and read you the time from a golden analog watch, “About quarter after six,” he said and you swore horribly under your breath, getting ready to continue your mad dash— “But hey—”

Ben's smile eased when you looked at him a second time, “Do you...want to get dinner sometime?”

“Dinner?” For a moment, you forgot the fishy smell wafting from in between your legs and just why you were going to the prep room so early. “Like...you and me?”

“Like you and me,”

What?

“Ben..I..” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, pulling your papers back under control. Why now? “I'm sorry—but I really gotta go I-I'm already late, the professor is going to kill me..”

Ben lifted himself off of the wall as you make your escape, “A-alright,” he frowned slightly, “I mean—it's alright, Professor Ren,” he chuckled, “He's tough...”

“Yeah,” you try to laugh, but it comes out as a whimper.

Ben chuckled, “You better get going, kid,” he put his hand on your bedhead and fluffed it up “I'll see you around,” and he was gone, off the end of the hall. You watched him go for a few seconds before realizing you could be running now.

You take off.

6:17, you arrived in the lecture hall, having thrown yourself into the door. It was when you were alone inside the auditorium that you realized-- _Ben Solo spoke to you_. After all that time. His smile that in your mind had turned gray, was now fresh in your mind, full color and doing the things to your heart that you never wanted your heart to do again. It was..fluttering. And dinner? He wanted dinner. He wanted to look at you across a dimly lit table and bite his lip when you laughed, his masculine voice offering you to go somewhere else _“Somewhere...private,” Ben said_ _with a smirk “or public,”_ Just like it used to be.

Wait. No. You had to go—Now. Professor Ren told you to be in the prep room twenty minutes ago—

–and you were still late to that prep room.

You darted down the long hallway to the center of the room where you could see the door to the prep room with light coming from under the door. You barely gave yourself enough time to slam the door handle before stumbling in. Tucking your hair behind you ear, you shuddered to see him in the flesh again.

Professor Ren was sitting at the desk in the middle of the room. The sleeves to his sky blue button-up were pushed to the elbow, his glasses not sporting a single smudge. He had his notebook open, pen between his fingers eyes still focused on his work. There was a cup of steaming coffee at the corner of his work station—sharp and unsweetened. You could taste it through your nose. “I see you left your favorite skirt at home today,” he said simply.

Heaving, you drop your binder on the mahogany desk, scrambling to shove papers back in the pile that threatened to spill across the table into his coffee, “My apologies, professor,” you panted, “I woke up late--,”

“That, I can see.”

Pushing your messy hair back away from your face you slide into the chair stationed across the desk from him. You assured yourself under your breath that you were okay—you could do this. You reached down and lifted your laptop from the bag you carried it in. When you raised your eyes, opening the lid, you caught Ren's hard stare from the opposite side of the desk.

“Are you that dense?”

It was that tone. You heard it in your dreams and in the way he called you a slut the night before. You were washed over with the cold realization that last night, your escapade after the lecture was not a dream. Nervously you looked over the top of your laptop.

“Can you not assume the reason why I've summoned you here nearly an hour before the lecture?” Ren raised his eyes to you, resting his forearms on the desk in front of him.“Have you forgotten our agreement?”

How could you forget that disgusting thing you agreed to just so you could kiss him? Surrendering your body to him in exchange for passing marks in the teacher's aide program; marks which you did not deserve according to your performance. He must have known how terrible you were—this entire scheme...its worked too well in his favor already.

“No,” you said quickly, feeling a familiar heat rise in your chest, “I just assumed we had work to do,”

“We do,” he replied easily, “And we will do it. However,”

You swallowed as his voice trails to silence, flipping the pen between his fingers. He stopped suddenly, snapping his eyes and locking them with yours,

“I will not start the lecture until I watch you cum for me like the little whore you are. Are we clear?”

Oh god. The heat in your chest fluttered up into a whirlwind of arousal that he struck with only that cold, calculating stare. You found yourself nodding, unable to break his stare, “Yes, professor,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he said simply, “Get on the desk,”

Your stomach took a hard dive. Despite the nature of your agreement, this command still seemed to shock you. However this time, your fear was suddenly translated to something else; anger over reason.

“Wait wh--in here?!” you blurted, “N-no!” you dropped your voice to a hiss, the redness in your chest flooding to your cheeks, “Professor, this arrangement—it can't work. You could get fired! I could get expelled! This whole thing is wrong. Wrong!” your words came out more choppy than how you practiced the night before, but still you were proud you managed to say any words at all to reject his advances. You folded your arms across your chest, “I'm not doing this.”

“In forty minutes,” he continued, unfazed by your outburst “I am expected to present a brand new lecture, and you will be expected to annotate it.” He asserted his grip on his pen and meets your fiery eyes with his cool honey-colored irises “Leaving your notes from yesterday not transcribed will result in more work for you and poor marks. You don't want that, do you?”

A helpless laugh escaped your lips, “You're going to pass me anyway!”

“No, I'm not.” He tilted his head slightly, dark locks of soft hair falling out from behind his ear. “Not if you refuse to participate. That was our agreement, was it not? You consented to me--to my face, did you not?”

Your voice barely broke a whisper as you went cold with fear, "Yes.."

And you weren't even intoxicated when you agreed—not with alcohol anyway. Only with the silkiness of his voice and the way he said 'let me taste you'.

“Did you remember my request?”

The answer to that question was 'no'. In a rush and having grabbed your crusty panties from the laundry pile, you didn't come to the realization that he specifically told you to leave them behind until he mentioned it.

“On the desk. Now.”

You obeyed, pushing your binder and laptop aside on the desk, shuffling your papers into a small semi-scattered pile. Rising to your feet, you turned you back to him, unbuckling your belt getting ready to push your pants to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Stopping, you looked at him over your shoulder, “What you told me to,”

“Did I tell you to undress?”

“No, but I—”

“Come--this side.”

The professor slid his chair creating a space big enough for you to slip between him and the dark wood of the desk. You walked to the other side of the desk and put yourself in front of him. He raised his hands as you lean back, taking a firm hold of your dark jeans, slipping his hands down inside of your waistline. You clenched as his hands trailed down your thighs, pushing your pants to the floor himself.

Ren pulled you by your rear towards him, his nose pressing on the bow of your panties right at your crotch. “Yesterday's panties,” he muttered against you, “how delicious you must smell.” When he inhales, it feels cold through the lace. He pushed your crusted lace panties down to your knees and when you stepped out of them, he picked them up and slung them over his shoulder all without removing his nose from you.

Biting down on the inside of your lip, you fought back urges to put your fingers in his hair. Would that be weird? As dominant as he was, he seemed to like it when you touched him back. You found yourself slipping back into that poisonous mindset; the mindset that justified your desire to let him in a second time. But since running into and rejecting Ben's offer for dinner...this felt like petty justice. Holding your breath, you gave in, placing your fingertips at his hairline, pushing your nails back into his dark hair.

He purred, his lip curling against you and he tilted his head up, encouraging you to go all the way through. When your hands reached the back of his neck, he pushed his nose back into your hips to inhale your scent. The professor pressed his lips against your pubic mound, teasing you with the anticipation of his tongue, but he's too distracted with the way you're parting his hair.

“Up.”

Ren pushed you back and raised his eyes to you from where he was sitting, the pattern of his breathing changing as you slipped up onto the cold desk. He exhaled in an attempt to control his lust—the same tension you felt when your hands brushed in his office flashed between your eyes. You saw he was fighting urges to touch you, just as you were to him, and finally, he pulled back away from your scent.

Ren put his back against the chair, letting his hips slide slightly forward, “Touch yourself,” he breathed, “I want you to show me what makes you wet,”

He fixed his eyes on you as you pull your legs apart, the wetness that accumulated drying slightly with every one of his breaths stifled with anticipation. Ren watched your two fingers slip between your lips before following them down to your entrance.

You swirled your fingertips around in your wetness, lubricating your labia, spreading the lips apart for him to see. His eyes on you felt as tangible as your fingers were, exploring the inner lips of your vulva without a sound, only the squishing of your saliva covered fingers. Pleasure rose inside you like a swelling tide and you can't help but let your eyes fall shut.

You tried to imagine Ben, picturing yourself how you used to be, under him with his lips on your neck. You remembered what he sounded like moaning your name, that perfect mouth leaving marks on your neck chasing the throbbing pain of his teeth with gentle kisses. Stifling moans, you bit down on your lip, your knees twitching, aching to close to conceal yourself.

“That's it,” Ren's voice broke your concentration and he images of Ben's handsome face disappeared. Your eyes fluttered open to see the flushed cheeks of the professor who was leaning back in the chair now. He was watching you, his cock in his fist stroking himself steadily, your panties wrapped around his other hand, pressed against his nose, “Just like that,” he whispered, “More..”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to forget he was there, easily eye-level with your entire vulva, able to see each finger work individual parts of you all at once. He studied the way you ran circles around your vaginal opening and came up to stimulate your clit for a few seconds before dipping back down to go all over again. Finally, one finger pushed inside of you and you sighed, your lips falling open.

When you open your eyes again, Ren was watching that one finger like his very life depended on it. His pace was quicker now, his breathing matching his desperation to hold himself back. His neck and shoulders were turning dark shades of red under his blue button-up; his sleeves still rolled up at the elbow, his knuckles turning white around your panties.

Back to Ben now, you imagined running your fingers through his soft hair, moaning onto his mouth. In your mind he accepted you graciously, rolling his hips into yours, grunting all manners of filthy derogatory names for you. With one hand holding you up, you pushed your hips into your other hand, full moans falling from your lips, getting absorbed by the shelves of books and file cabinets that surrounded you.

Ren woke you from your fantasy again with his hand, still wrapped in your panties, behind your neck. When your eyes fluttered open yet again, you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath warm and inviting across your nose, mouth and cheeks. He was still holding himself back, his cock turning red in his fist while he jerked it, the head of his sex pushing against the back of your hand. Your eyes met, and even he couldn't tear it away. Your lips hovering apart told you he had no intention of kissing you but when you unintentionally moaned on him, he can't help but silence you with his lips.

His hunger for you translated directly in the way he moved his lips against yours as well as the slight pressuring of the head of his cock against the back of your hand. You slipped a second finger inside of yourself and when you gasped, he moaned quietly in reply, “Good girl..don't stop..”

Ren held you there by his one hand, and when he steadied you, you pulled your hand off of the desk and clenched the buttons of his shirt, keeping your flush with his strong chest while you kissed. Your hand traveled up to his cheek past his ears where you grasped a full fist of his silky hair. He continued to nudge the back of your hand with the head of his cock, pumping it faster until he was forced to break and kiss to pant, “Get out—” he grunted knocking his cock into your hand, “Move.”

You obeyed, pulling your sticky fingers from your cunt, and before you could begin recovering, he shoves his entire length inside of you. Despite it being the same cock your took last night, on a slightly different desk, it filled you with the same disgusting desire to encourage him.

Satisfaction washed over you in a sigh that you both shared and tingled on each others lips. With shaking hands, he gripped you by your ass, pulling you on his cock and thrusting at the same time. “Fuck, you're so wet,” he growled, rolling your foreheads together, “What a mess you're making on this desk,”

Without thinking, you take your sticky hand and press it against his plump lips. He wrapped his lips around your two fingers to the second knuckle and you held him there. Ren split your fingers with his tongue, sucking on each sweet cum soaked digit, his eyes falling shut in ecstasy. He released you with a gasp and he licks the dripping saliva from his bottom lip. “You like feeding me your dirty cunt when I fuck you, little girl?” he breathed.

“Y-yes, professor,” you heard the words in your own voice, but you couldn't believe it was your mouth saying them.

Ren opened his eyes, exhaling hard on your lips, “That's right,” he husked, the force of his thrusts hiccuping your moans as they tried to spill from your lips. “Are you going to cum on my cock, whore?” Before you could reply, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when you cum,”

Your moans escalated to whines, and you try to focus on his handsome face his lustful eyes behind his Ray Bans, and the vice grip he had on your cheeks and chin. Fear dissolved into pleasure and you came hard, spilling your fluids on his throbbing cock, lubricating his frenzy. Your entire body swelled with warmth, and your lips came crashing together again to muffle Ren's groans as he returned the favor.

With your eyes locked, you feel his cock removed from you, and in its place, ropes of hot cum splash onto your thighs. He disappeared from your eyes and you felt his tongue lap up his mess from you. When you felt him again, its his hand on the back of your neck, tilting your head towards his, your lips coming together and your mouth suddenly fills with the salty bitterness of his cum.

Professor Ren drew away, his eyes focused on your mouth, “Swallow,” he whispered.

You let the ball of his cum and saliva slide down your throat and when you gasped, opening your mouth to prove that you've obeyed, he smirked.

“Good girl..” he whispered, massaging his thumbs in and around your hips, “Are you coming to terms with what it is you've agreed to, little girl?”

You leaned back in to kiss him, but he snatches your face, “I'll take that as a 'no',” he growls. You thought your stomach couldn't go any lower, but it did when he squeezed your chin and cheeks together in one massive hand.

“Let me lay our terms out for you loud and clear,” he snarled, pulling your hands away from him with his other hand, “You are to come to me only when I call you. You will not say a word to me —you will not even look at me outside our regularly scheduled lecture hours,” he eyes still seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the prep room, the sun barely beginning to shine from outside the small window, “We are finished when I cum and when we are finished, we are finished, that means you keep that mouth off of me unless I tell you otherwise,” his voice trailed to silence, and when he felt you were going to behave, he released your jaw, allowing you both to catch your breath. “And lastly,”

He drew close to you now, teasing you with the proximity of your mouths,

“You are to be no one's slave but mine.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Are we clear?”

Before you can reply, before you could even nod, footsteps approached the prep room door. The two of you froze, your face going pale—his face growing very dark.

Within seconds, Professor Ren's massive hands grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you off the desk, whipping you around to the storage closet and throwing you inside. He scooped up your jeans and flung them in after you, barely able to gather your footing before being forced to catch your pants. He pulled your dirty panties off of his shoulder, stuffed them into his pocket.

Ren sealed you inside the cabinet closet, the only thing visible was his shadow through the downward slanted slits that cut across the door horizontally. “Keep quiet.” He stood there in front of the door, pushing his soft cock back into his trousers as the door opened.

You squinted your eyes to see through the closet door as Ren turned away to the door leading into the auditorium. His broad shoulders were blocking the view of the person who entered, and you tried  
your best not to move a muscle, but fear threatened to have other plans.

“This prep room is in use,” you heard Ren say flatly, “I'll have to ask you to go elsewhere.”

“My apologies, professor. I only just found out myself, but--”

Ben. Your heart twisted up and you put your hand over your mouth to keep your breathing as quiet as possible. You could see Ben's figure through the door on the other side of Ren holding up an assignment sheet that even you could see was clearly stamped by the teaching council.

“I've been assigned as your additional teacher aide this semester,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Part Three soon!


	3. In the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was official. Ben Solo wasn't going anywhere and there was nothing you or even Professor Ren could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS after ????
> 
> Part Three of On the Desk. I have NO idea how to preface this, this is mostly transitional fan service-y. Closet sex--nothing fancy, but I worked on it all myself with a bit of help from Hailee (bless her soul). I hope you enjoy~

Ben fucking Solo. You couldn’t believe this. As bad as it was that the teaching council decided Professor Ren needed another aide this semester, it had to be your stupid ex boyfriend. The same man who you fucked so regularly, he called you his dick-warmer (“I mean that affectionately, kid”). Not only that, but Ben Solo was same man who you caught cheating with your old roommate in your freshman year and the one who asked you out last week after two years and ten minutes before you let your professor put his cock where the sun don’t shine.

Every inch of Professor Ren’s patience was spent arguing with the teaching council about it; his initial rage immeasurable in its ferocity. Night after night for weeks he paced his office, hands tight behind his back, dictating letters to the council in protest of Ben’s reassignment to his circuit. Back and forth, he stomped past you, barking edits and revisions, scratch this, add that, ‘I said ‘imperative’, not ‘imperial’’. Sleepless and running on what caffeine collected at the bottom of your break room cup, you typed away, fighting off both sleep and the hint of pleasure his baritone drawl brought you.

Your voice reciting back must have done something to him, because on the third night after not fucking for weeks, he slammed the computer screen down and snapped at you. Then, came some unholy desire that compelled him to nail you right there against the bookshelf.

He couldn’t help it--and you could see the frustration building in his interactions: shorter, angrier, _sexier_. He was tapping his pen anxiously against the desk during prep, wearing the same tie two days in a row. You could only imagine what his living space was like--probably nothing like yours--maybe a little cleaner. The professor was as sleepless and as agitated as you were, looking to seize you every chance he got. And to his dismay, Ben’s reassignment made him harder to shake than before. Between ‘catching’ you in the hallway in-between the lecture hall and the prep room, and ‘bumping into’ you in the courtyard--there wasn’t anywhere you had to go where Ben wasn’t.

It was official: Ben Solo wasn’t going anywhere and there was nothing you or even Professor Ren could do about it.

You assumed that Ben’s uncanny ability to be everywhere at once would mean the end of your arrangement with Ren, but that was a far-off dream; the professor was far more clever than that. His fast solution was to fix you with a pager, an ugly thing that was sticky and weird--surely fished out of some thrift store bargain box. The protocol was simple:

“I page you,” he had said holding the artifact up to your eye-level, “You come. Then you come again. Simple.”

It wasn’t that simple. What he didn’t initially specify is that the pager would translate a message-- twelve characters long-- just enough to disclose a location to meet. And underneath the single line were two buttons, red and green. Green meant your panties were in your hand, ready to fuck and red was for the event that Ben Solo was even within earshot. Upon pressing the red button, it sent an automated response to Ren that translated roughly to ‘no can-do.’

Most of that first week with the pager was all red; and it wasn't just Ben that stopped you. Between actual schoolwork and your roommate’s desire to vent to you about this and that, it was actually difficult to escape from any given situation to satisfy Ren’s insatiable lust. In fact, Ben was always the last one to pop up--like getting through a staged haunted house without a problem only to be scared shitless by the butcher with the bloody bladeless chainsaw that you did not even see coming.

Much like this hypothetical butcher, Ben came out of what seemed like nowhere. However, the only difference was that while the butcher can't do much damage with his phony chainsaw, one wrong move in front of Ben could ruin your grades, your scholarship, your entire _future_.

It annoyed you just how much power Ben had over you without him knowing it and it annoyed you even more knowing that even the Professor could only do so much.

But what annoyed you the most was that as much the professor paged you--spitting locations in cryptic acronyms-- he never used his full twelve characters to tell you anything else. Sure, it was mostly meaningless to care, but at times like this, you found it comforting to consider the little things. With those twelve characters, he never told you that you did good on that week’s transcription, applauded you for successfully avoiding Ben, or that your grade even _tickled_ a D minus.

D minus. That’s a good one.

“Y/N!”

Your hurried pace down the sunny Millennium Hall was halted at the sound of a familiar voice.

Instinctively, you clapped your hand on your pager, but the red button offered you no peace this time. The tornado siren that screamed in your head told you that your mission to take the long way to Skywalker Hall through Millennium for prep was interrupted by the last person you wanted to see-- the chainsaw butcher with the sweetest, doofiest face.

Ben grinned as he dropped in beside you, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder, “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, kid--where’re you headed?”

“N-no--yeah --uhm..”

“You’re going to ‘No’?” Ben snickered, “Never heard of it,”

Flushing, you cleared your throat, “N-no--I mean. Professor Ren he asked me to pick up some spare supplies from the prep room here--some..paper..you know. Alone.”

“Yeah yeah!” Ben beamed, “I’ve got lecture coming up, but I’ll walk you down,”

Your heart jumped up into your throat and you desperately tried to swallow it back down, “No no, it's alright I got it-- I…know where the prep room is,”

“I know you do, smart girl!” Ben seized your shoulder and shook you affectionately, “Come on, let's go.”

You exhaled hard, nostrils flaring as you started up your walk again, Ben falling happily into step beside you. You walked in silence for a short time, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his massive form keeping up with your anxious strides. He paced awkwardly close to you, puffing his chest out with a deep and relaxed breath.

“Isn’t this great, kid?” he asked, “you and I together again. Just like old times,”

You drew a breath, folding your arms across your baggy cardigan and twisting your fingers in the elbow. Great? Great is finding twenty bucks in your pocket or being surprised by something you need being on sale. Great is not--anything that has to do with Ben Solo--especially not now. Where was he when you desperately wanted him to text you back? Blowing his load on some hotter girl’s tits?

Pulling your shoulders in, you stole glances around, stealing one extra at your pager. “Yeah..” you murmured, “old times,”

“You know, the guys at the frat house didn’t think I was gonna make the circuit this semester--” Ben continued sheepishly rubbing at his collar, “with the professors doubling up, they thought I was going to Organa’s Sociology course--that spot is impossible to fill, that shit is so boring!”

“Yeah,” you muttered.

Ben went on, hooking all but his thumbs inside of his pockets. “I mean, I hate Ren’s shit too, but at least you’re here, you know?”

“Y-yeah..”

“Hey, are-- you alright?”

You stopped, your eyes focusing on Ben as he stopped ahead of you. He admired your frazzled posture with a smirk, again adjusting his messenger bag.

Looking at him as he was--like you remembered him--made your stomach sick. His layers of soft, touchable hair, slender jaw, eyes  like Hershey’s kisses on the day you just decide to suck on them and let it turn to cream in you mouth. It made you nervous and excited. Or maybe you were just horny or something. You suddenly remembered your period--that was this week..? Next week? Jesus Christ, you were a mess.

“Yeah, uh, you know what?” you pushed your bag further on your hip, adjusting your glasses back onto your nose “I have gotten...like...no sleep in the last week. I’m crazy tired all the time. This circuit is really…” you paused, “...fucking me right now,”

“Yeah?” Ben frowned. He approached you again, pulling his hands from his pockets and slipping them around your cheeks. He tilted your head from side to side, inspecting and admiring you up close.

Heart pounding in your neck, you imagined how both you and Ben looked right now. Probably as just another Corellia student couple--two sweethearts, one with considerably less chill than the other at this very moment.

That was you, by the way, trembling and helpless in Ben’s tender embrace. For your own sake, you hoped that the professor was somewhere far away--like really far away hiding in a dark place where he couldn't see you. He seemed pretty serious about the whole exclusiveness of this arrangement and this candid and unsolicited moment could absolutely blow it. This was your grade on the line and Ben was not going to be the reason you failed...again.

“You do look tired,” Ben murmured endearingly. He caressed you with his thumbs, his silver ring feeling chilly against your cheek, “How about we ah--curl up for a nap. I didn’t really want to go to lecture anyway.”

In his devious smile, you saw immediately that a nap was not what he was really suggesting. “Look--Ben, I--I can’t--I--”

“--Have you ...considered my offer for dinner?”

The closer he got, the faster your heart turned into a puddle of molten ache. ‘Considered it’ was a understatement, but even entertaining the idea of letting Ben back in your life right now was more risky than the time he fingered you under the table at the taco place.

“I was..thinking we could go to that taco place--”

_Beep Beep!_

Both you and Ben looked down to your hip where your pager sat, lighting up happily. You stared in disbelief, gaping until it pinged a second time. “Ah--shit..” you took a stumbling step back and Ben let you go as you fumbled it off your belt. Across the single line, you saw the letters slide across:

_SW-EW 3_

“Yeah--ah--” you looked frantically at Ben for a second and without thinking, you smashed your thumb into the green button. It beeped: confirmation sent. _Oops._

Ben chuckled and leaned in again, “Whoa, is that a pager?”

You pulled it quickly back to your chest, then shoving it into your leather bag. “I--ah--yeah, look, Ben gotta go--sorry--” you sidled to get around him, powering a short way up the hall towards the door.

“Wait!” Ben stammered, “Dinner? I’m buyin’!”

Free food--possibly tacos. That’s two things ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer to--aside from getting low-key finger blasted? “I don’t know!” you yelped rounding the corner “--maybe!”

Skywalker Hall, East Wing, three minutes. Already being down a half a minute at least, you had to hurry. ‘SW-EW 3’? What was this, some Da Vinci Code level porn intro? He was lucky you weren't as stupid as you thought you were.

Reaching the hall, you shouldered the door and it swung easily open. You took an immediate right following the signage to the east wing and when you reached the East Wing’s stunning foyer, you slowed your trot to a stop.

Skywalker Hall was truly the gem of Corellia. It was the hall on every brochure, promotional poster and complimentary pack of sticky notes. With its dramatic, gothic style hallways, grand auditorium and state of the art seating and acoustics, it was no wonder Professor Ren adored it so much. Nowhere else was he able to command the stage like the star of a Shakespearean monologue.

Exhaling, you paused your walk to catch your breath. The hallways, almost always bustling with students were ominously empty today, only your shoes echoing against the mahogany along with panting breaths. The warmth of ease spread through you as you calmed down--checking your phone for the time. You were early--wherever you had to be. You leaned back against the wall, gasping as it gave a little way. You scrambled up before you fell and turned back to face it.

It was not a wall at all, but a large set of sliding doors vented like the prep room closet,  fixed on a sliding track. The wood was positively shimmering, deep maroon hues mixing generously with the reds of the natural wood. Raising your eyes you read the signage in your head, squinting in disbelief ‘’ _Custodial’?’_

That’s pretty fancy wood for a closet holding various bleach-related products. You wondered for a moment what they did with the old doors.

With a sigh, you took a few steps to the side, leaning against the sturdy wall beside the sliding door. Raising your eyes to the sunlit hallways of Skywalker, you admired for a moment the silence, the tranquility of a desert evening before the nocturnal storm. And by ‘nocturnal storm’, you definitely meant some sort of dicking. After all, that’s why you were there.

Come to think of it, Ren never even told you where exactly to meet him--the East Wing isn't exactly small. You half expected to find him sitting on one of the benches, his handsome profile buried in a book, thumbing the pages like a lover. Where he’d glance up at you, close his book and stand; proclaiming that this whole thing was over--and that he’d actually let you slide for the whole mini-skirt thing.

Instead, you were snatched by the arm and yanked hard to one side, stumbling into the custodial closet, the door sliding shut as quickly as it opened.

Before you could scream, a familiar hand clamped hard over your mouth. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, you saw a glint of reflective glass then a stunningly prominent nose.

Professor Ren hissed you quiet, his entire body weighing you against the back of the closet, holding you perfectly still--as if your entire body seizing up didn’t stop you from squirming. He turned his head to the door and held his breath, listening for even the slightest sound. He didn’t even bother asking if anyone followed you and you felt good that he trusted you enough not to ask; but not enough to warn you that the closet would be the place he’d snatch you.

Hearing nothing, he turned back to look at you as you trembled, breathing hard against his hand. Through his own panting, he found time to give you a once over, perhaps blushing in his efforts to subdue you. Slowly, he lowered his hand from your mouth, both of your panting growing softer.

“We have forty minutes,” he said quietly, “Strip.”

You shouldn’t be surprised--this wasn’t the first time your professor suggested you fuck somewhere almost obscene. Yet your stomach clenched, and as much as you tried to contain your shock, it translated into anger. Again.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No,” he replied pulling at his cuffs. He unfastened the cuff links and pushed his sleeves to his elbow, “I’m not,”

“We’re in a _closet_.”

“And?”

“ _And?!”_ Your blood peaked to a boil “ You couldn’t find an office to do this? Or how about a _bed_ , or do people not fuck in those anymore? There’s fucking bleach in here!”

“You get no say in where or how we fuck,” he growled, yanking his tie loose. That motion alone made you clench in anticipation, “You do as I say and that is the bottom line. You knew the terms and you agreed.”

“You’ve got it so fuckin’ easy, don’t you,” you hissed drilling your finger into his massive chest, “You push a little button and I drop whatever I’m doing, come running and bend over--like--am I insane for thinking you could pull your weight for some comfort?”

“Quiet.”

“You didn't say anything about a _closet_!” you continued, “Ugh! It's bad enough you got me running around campus with a goddamn pager like I’m some retro-millennial hooker! While you can't even find a flat fucking surface to do this shit on!”

Ren slammed his hand on the wall behind you and you jumped, sinking back in surprise. He leaned in closer, his sheer presence stealing breath from your lungs. His voice dropped low, impossibly low, rumbling along the insides of your brain, “I said: Quiet.”

You had no choice but to obey.

“Now, I want you to listen to me,” he whispered, “and listen carefully because I will only say this once--”

Oh boy.

“You are mine, to do with as and how I please--Whenever I want..wherever I want.” his eyes glimmered in the darkness, his murmuring voice rolling around in your tummy. “Nothing about this is up to you. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes”

“Yes, what,”

Suddenly, you remembered to breathe, “Yes, professor,”

He stared at you hard, his handsome features finally coming into view in the dim light, from his furrowed brows to his anxiously twitching lip. It was then you could see the beads of sweat hanging from the curls at his ears, the moisture building up around his neck. The closer he got, the heavier his presence weighed against you, the magnets in your lips tingling with anticipation. “Good…” he breathed.

Exhaling, he melted into your lips, pinning you back to the wall that you swore wobbled with his exertion.  He drove you backwards and down against the wall and devoured you like a man diving into a mirage of sweet water. Greedily, he bit down on your lip and you gasped as he pulled away, your lip rolling from his teeth; a satisfied groan rumbling inside his chest.

In one, swift motion, he de-bloused you, popping the buttons and sending them scattered across the floor.

You sighed, arching your back into his hands as your bra fell loose in a flurry of quick fingers. Without pulling away, you let him slide the straps down your shoulders, your nipples hardening in the presence of his hands. He cupped your breasts up, squeezing your nipples between any two fingers he found them settling.

“A-ahh..” moaning forced him to release your lips, his hungry mouth finding a home on your neck.

He dipped further, releasing one of your breasts and closing his plump lips around it. He swirled his tongue around your areola before hollowing his cheeks, forcing your nipple to pucker into his mouth. Ren pulled back before he released you, your nipple popping from his lips and rushing warm with blood.

He moaned deeply against your flesh as he went, sucking greedy patches of your sternum and dragging his tongue over your goosebumps. With your back arched further into him, he found an angle to push you back by the hips, rubbing his bulge into your jeans against the wobbling wall.

“That feels good, doesn’t it...” He murmured, licking his lips against you.

On your next breath, you gasped, the waistline of your jeans popping open between his fingers. His palm on your tummy and fingers facing down, he pushed his hand down into your panties. His fingers slipped along the outer lips of your wetness, pulling your hips forward as he stroked you, easing you into his touch. Each push slid your jeans further around your hips until they reached your thighs, and then collapsed to your ankles where he forced you to step out. You moved your hips back and forth between his hands--his second at the small of your back--rubbing your clit up and down on the heel of his palm.

“Good girl..” he murmured, “Just like that..” He breathed hard against your neck, sending hot chills down your spine, “Don’t stop--”

Your entire body shuddered in pleasure, thighs trembling around his hand. You obeyed him again and he rewarded you, pinching your clit between his fingers and rubbing it hard back against you. Fighting back the urge to be noisy, you heaved from your chest, a moan dribbling from your lips into his shoulder.

He flexed his wrist, rocking it back and forth, the warm wetness from your cunt coating his fingers like spit. He reached deep inside of you, using each thrust to reach even deeper, his middle finger curling in, massaging your tender g-spot, forcing a full-body tremble out of you.

You jerked your head up, you and Ren locking eyes in the heat. Foreheads and glasses coming coming together with a sigh, mutual pleasure bubbled up in your gut. He stared hard at you while he rocked your hips back and forth on his hand, every thrust sending insistent spikes of pleasure through your tummy.

The longer he stared, the more intense his thrusts became. They were longer, slower, harder--and in the gaps, you felt mutual, equal, worthy of wanting him. The very thought pushed another wave of heat through your body.

You started with the back of your knuckles, grazing the outside of his bulge, his shaking breath stuttering against your lips. You continued, turning your hand around and cupping his length, rocking your hand against him. Ren began to pant, rubbing his erection into your hand, his eyes falling shut. Gently, you curled your hand into his waistline--

In a heavy clatter, he moved in a flash, grabbing the wrist of your curious fingers and slamming it above your head. You gasped sharply, the bucket by his feet toppling over, a mop falling slanted against the back of the sliding door.

“When I told you to listen” he snarled into your skin, taking for himself a moment to bask in your helplessness. He fumbled with his belt “did you?”

You gasped, feeling a sudden wet pressure on your womanhood. The swollen head of his cock nudged you and you mewled.

“Or did you agree so we can cut here...to the part where I fuck you.” He pushed his fingers back down between your thighs, smearing your wetness into your lips and around his cock “Don’t deny how badly you want this, I can feel you clenching--” you rolled your hips into his hand again and they slipped greedily back inside of you.

You whined when he pulled his fingers back, your hips bucking as your cunt puckered in his absence. Rubbing your outer lips along his sopping wet fingers, he stalled you with the vibrations until he dipped down and hoisted you up into his arms.

Ren slammed you hard into the wall, “Admit it,” he huffed, “Your body can’t say ‘no’ to me.” and before you could reply, he shoved his hand behind your knee, opening your lips to him.  Releasing your weight, he entered you, your throbbing cunt surrendering hungrily to his girth.

The shock of pleasure forced your toes to clench in your socks, the sensation melting away to burning urges. He groaned heavily, burying his nose and mouth against your neck as he spread you, your cunt flexing around him, clenching him deeper inside of you.

“Is this what you want?” he grunted, “What you feel the desire to take without permission?”

Whimpers became your reply, your knees squeezing him as he held you still, forcing you to stretch. With his chest pressed against yours, he looked up his nose at you, admiring the pleasured trembling of your lips. He gripped the shaking wall behind you, flexing his forearms as your thighs settled on top of him. With his palms pressed to the wall behind you, he asserted his grip.

Ren kicked the wall with his Oxford shoe and it suddenly gave way, causing you to gasp as you were jerked up, your body tipping forward against him. Your heart pounded hard and wet in your chest, the realization he was gripping the old custodial door that happened to be stashed in this very closet. He pulled hard on the loose door, using it as leverage to keep your body flush with his, his cock still shoved deep inside of your womanhood, his new angle perfect for bouncing you.

You doubled forward, arms looping around his neck, squeezing him tight. You buried your nose into his hair, moaning and panting into his follicles. You took a fistful of his locks and he gasped sharply, gritting his teeth in ecstasy.

“Touch yourself…” he growled, “hard.”

You reached down, trembling fingers finding your stiff clit. With a whimper, you pulled it back, the slick that allowed his cock such swift entry turning the rest of your womanhood sopping and throbbing. Closing your eyes, you pushed it down towards the friction of his sex, feeling your insides shudder in delight.

“Harder…” he panted, lustful eyes staring up at you over his handsome nose, glasses askew. He breathed even heavier, fogging up both your glasses and his. “Harder...harder. Show me how much you desire me.”

Your face buried in his neck as you whimpered, you flicked your wrist as quickly as you could, the pleasure sloshing higher and higher along the inside of your tummy. Squeezing your eyes shut, you thought about him--his broad shoulders, slender jaw, heavy, masculine hands--his perfect lips feeling like heaven on the same entrance he was fucking relentlessly.

With a sharp and sudden snap, Ren let go of one side of the door, letting the side crash diagonally against the wall. He threw your trembling hand aside and replaced your fingers with his own. He pressed you hard, erratically rubbing your clit, forcing you to sob into your orgasm.

You came has hard as he urged you, cunt fluttering around his cock in thick, heavy convulsions. He didn’t stop as you came, your fluids spilling from your lips as he jerked his wrist on you, your clit pulsing and spasming in hot pleasure. You bit down hard on his shoulder as you cried, melting away to his endless thrusts that only seemed to get harder and harder.

Suddenly, he yanked himself away, letting you collapse back against the door. He smashed you back into the rickety thing, squeezing you impossibly hard as he came. Hot cum splattered against your bare tummy, his moans quiet and pleasure-inducing in the aftermath.

Ren let you down easy, one leg, then the other as you regained your footing, knees knocking and locking. He took a staggered step back-- you tripped on the bucket.

You watched him wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, his transformation like that of a sated werewolf in the last light of the moon. His pupils shimmered with humanity, albeit a distant and cold sense of one. “Clean yourself up,” he murmured tucking his sex back into his trousers. “and watch the bleach..”

“What about Ben?” you heaved suddenly, perhaps speaking a little louder than you wanted to.

Ren looked up at you, the blood in his body running visibly cold. But still, he moved, pulling his sleeves back down, fastening back his cuff links. “What about him?”

You--didn’t really know. This wasn’t the best topic of conversation you could think of post-fuck--sure that Ren wanted nothing to do with Ben in any way outside of his mandatory exposure. But the threat of Ben actually scared you, and that glimmer in Ren’s eye told you that you could trust him with your fear. “He's everywhere-- I--” you stammered, “I saw him today...just now before I came...here.”

Ren didn’t immediately reply, instead he laid his collar flat, stretching his neck as he tightened his tie, “And?” he murmured “Did he lay his hands on you?”

Images of Ben’s wicked smirk flashed across the front of your brain. “N-no,” you lied. So much for trust.

The professor pulled the closet door open and the sunlight caressed his prominent profile. “Good,” he replied, “keep it that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. In the "Doghouse"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Ren has a monster dong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....here it is! A million years and a million and three drafts later the latest installment! Likes and nice comments are always appreciated, hope you like it!

Every now and again, you remembered a letter you wrote to yourself in elementary school.

Dear me, it started. You probably don't remember me, but I'm you too. Do you read Harry Potter? I've read them all. Mrs. Sturm told me I had to tell you a bunch of things today, so what do you want to know? I just asked Mrs. Sturm what to tell you and she told me to tell you about my best friend. Her name is Olivia and she can do a cartwheel and a back handspring twice. I just asked Mrs. Sturm what else to tell you and she told me to tell you what I wanted to be when I grow up. I don't know that.

It was hard to believe it went on from there for six more wide-ruled pages. The sharpened pencil lines were smudged now, but a scatterbrained recollection of your immediate life as a young girl was still mostly in-tact. The most damage was two folded lines in the same spot of all six pages, just enough to get it back in the envelope where your mother safely stored it since that Open House.

Page four: “Mom and dad want me to go to a good school so I can make lots of money,” You heard your young voice over your mothers as she read it out loud, “There's a place called Correla that's very good. I hope they like my stories.” Even in the beam of your roommate's genuine smile from behind, as you stood in the threshold to your dorm, your mother holding the old thing in her hands. you couldn't stomach to hear the rest. Your mom wanted you to keep the letter as a reminder of what your dreams were, but you 'couldn't bear take it from her'. There were tears already in her eyes at the thought and the idea of being stuck with your past self's expectations made the weight on your shoulders grow.

Knowing what you knew, you yourself couldn't bear read back knowing that the Harry Potter series would eventually end and evolve into spinoffs that you'd never see and that in a matter of years, Olivia would steal your favorite patch jacket out of the lost and found and pretend she made it herself. And knowing that your passions were all but alive, you felt sick at the thought of being stuck with your impossibly high third grade standards to discredit everything you've done:

It didn't matter that you had made it this far, that you landed the lead role in your middle school drama class or that you made it through intermediate to advanced band or that you had near perfect attendance; how you only ever failed one algebra test. Even the gravitas of that anti-achievement was made null by this snapshot of your life and the hopes of what you thought that life would be.

In fact, the further you got from that day and in it's constant reminder through your mother, it weighed you down with each passing moment. Each time you fond yourself wanting something, you swapped it with a memory of desperately wanting an indoor slide like the Mcdonald's PlayPlace or wanted to invent an endless chicken nugget machine. It could never happen. Just like your classmate Killian could never actually grow twenty feet and Elizabeth couldn't just—become a cat, no matter how many times she showed up to class in her own cat's collar. The thought made your mind go blank leaving the void of disappointment to echo in it's vicious mockery and you had to listen to it. But nowadays, when your brain went silent, you were haunted with the only thing you could focus on, the only thing you could remember in your own voice:

Professor Ren has a monster dong.

And the only thing that quieted the endless sounds of slapping flesh and the regretful taste of cum was the promise of a reply you made to your young self. It didn't have to be long, just a response to your outlandish desires. And if it were really possible to hop out of a time machine and not awkwardly approach a third grader with a letter, maybe you would. Maybe you'd try to prepare yourself for what was to come with some words of encouragement, or let yourself down easy about marrying Legolas. Myriad were the things you could say to yourself, but none seemed to imply that nothing was stopping that innocent child from becoming a very far from innocent and stupid adult. At least, you didn't grow up to be Elizabeth—who does that?

A plastic bag thudded off the end of your nose. It oozed with the smell of sweet and spicy chicken that hit your brain like smelling salts. As your eyes came into focus, you let out a shuddering breath, “Oh my god,” you gasped, “is that Panda?”

“Sure is!” Your roommate dropped off a second bag of food into her study nest, “Mila and I stopped there on the way back to campus,” she said, “Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

You fumbled with the plastic bag, opening it and sticking your face into the aroma. A haze of warm chili spice, green beans and chicken filled your sinuses and you melted into it, curling around it like holy ground. There was a world outside of buttered pasta; and Panda Express was a half step up from that. “Bless you, Tor,” you whimpered.

Tori smiled pulled the lid off of her teriyaki bowl as she pulled her feet under her, “Anything for Professor Ren's dedicated literature slave,” she laughed, “How early were you there this morning, Y/N, you slept like all day.”

Lifting your arm, you focused more on not dropping your athletic watch on your face despite how heavy it was. Seven thirty pm; a Saturday well spent and still under your arms and chest were piles of papers and your computer. Down your tummy, you felt yourself wiggle in a post-orgasm way. Still unsure on the front of your period. “Time is an illusion,” you muttered in reply “There is no Professor Ren. Only Zuul.”

She drew a breath through clenched teeth and lobbed you a pair of chopsticks that hit you in the head “That bad, huh.”

“I wish I could disclose the horror I've experienced,” you murmured, hugging your American Chinese food to your cheek like a pillow.

“You're doing your best,” she said with a genuine smile, “Speaking of best—and by best I mean worst, I saw your favorite cum stain on my way in.”

You mustered about half a full flight or fight response; one end made your muscles tense and the other made a move to clutch the pager in your bag beside you. You weren’t sure which was which, but after careful yet instant consideration, you decided that neither would grant you peace. In fact, your reaction left you even more exhausted than before. “Oh joy.” you muttered.

Tori laughed, pushing up her glasses with the back of her hand, “I've seen that boy out there two times already this week, like--I thought your old roommate lives in her sorority commune of forced chastity now.”

“As far as I’m aware she does,” you muttered, loud enough to be heard from between the plastic bag. “I have no idea what he’s doing he has no business here.” Unless he still wants those tacos. Or your taco.

“Well if she's gone and he's still sniffing around here, than can mean one of two things. Either he hit his head doing a keg stand and thinks he lives here and can't understand why he's not allowed in or!” Tori sighed, “He wants to see you.”

The thought of his hands on your cheeks passed through your brain. “Can't imagine why..”

“Aside from him thinking you're the bee's sexy knees, I can't really either.” she replied, “'specially since you both got doubled up from Ren's nightmare gauntlet and are working together—all the time.”

You tossed a lock of hair from your forehead, “This may come as a shock to you, but he rarely works—at all.”

“Who, Ben?”

“Who else? He is the farthest thing from an English major in Corellia's immediate history. What's he doing as a TA in a literature analysis course? He hasn't read a book since middle he seventh grade.”

“Well, if you ask me,” Tori set her bowl down and wiped her hands on her sweatpants, “I'm more curious about this sudden change of heart. He didn’t seem so into you when he was sticking it into Candy, so why now? Are you like bathing in pheromones or something?”

“You know I barely bathe.”

She gasped, “You think he’s finally seen the light? Realized his mistakes and wants to win you back?” She laughed, “What’s next, he’s gonna start throwing rocks at the window?”

You went back to laying on your food, “You really think he could throw that hard?”

Tori tossed her head back with a laugh, “Ben would do anything for pussy and yours must be made of chocolate or something because that boy is chasing you like the ice cream truck.” she shook her head, “Ditching his own damn major to pet the kitty. Amazing.”

You found your hand around the pager again and when you released it, the voice of Sauron fizzled to silence. “Trust me,” you grumbled rolling over onto your back. “It's not all it's cracked up to be. Especially when I have actual work to do.”

She smirked, “Can't imagine what it's like to juggle balls and your grade at the same time. You're truly a super woman.”

“It's..” _Professor Ren has a monster dong._ You cleared your throat. “it's--yeah.”

“How is the circuit anyway?” Tori put her empty bowl in her bin, “What's he got you doing?”

“Transcribing lectures for his masturbatory archive, doing his job for him when he doesn't feel like it, fetching his coffee--bitch work..” you grumbled. “I swear I'm up all hours of the night typing up his transcripts because he never shuts up and he will page me—in the middle of work to--” you huffed, “get his fucking coffee as if I'm not already busy while he prepares for the next long complex lecture yet he expects me to be alert enough the next day to do it again. And to learn something. Ren is a maniac and I hate him.”

She smirked, sighing and twirling her pen around her fingers again. Taking a few more notes, she put her socked feet on the ground, “Poor Ben,” with her thermos in her hand, she left for the kitchen, “Never stood a chance!”

_Beep! Beep!_

Your heart was dropped into yet another fight or flight scare as Tori let the room. Unfortunately for you, neither reaction would suffice as your hand was again, already closed around the pager, the other opening your bag of food. You pulled the sticky thing out of your bag and looked at the characters as they inch by on its screen.

_Office 5_

You pushed yourself upright, staring longingly a the food in your lap, then at the pager. No excuses, you thought to yourself. Pouting, you pushed the green button and when Tori came back with her sweet-smelling coffee, you put your feet on the ground and into your slippers.

“Don't tell me,” she sighed.

“I should be back before the study session tonight..” you muttered, pulling your jacket on one arm at a time, “And if I'm not, don't wait up and don't bother calling campus PD.”

“Such a star student,” she said, “Ren should be honored to have you as his professor’s pet,”

You stopped in the threshold, hanging on the door with a weak and scrunched up smile. “He’d like that wouldn’t he,”

“I dunno, dude,” Tori winked, “you tell me,”

\--

Opening the door to Ren's Gatsby-esque private office, you were taunted with visions of your last visit. Come to think of it, there were lots of things about this place you must not have remembered; an owl statuette embedded in one of the shelves and the fact that there wasn’t a speck of dust on any of the hundreds of books. Ren himself was seated in his monstrous office chair in a crisp button up that was split visually with a dark blue tie. Sleeves pushed up to his elbows as usual, he was scribbling notes.

The door clicked shut as you leaned back against it.

“You’re late.” he licked his thumb, “Lock the door.”

Puffing air out of your mouth, you obeyed, clicking the lock into place before walking across the floor. Stopping at the end of his desk, you swore you saw still the marks your ass-cheeks made on the wood, “Well, you only gave me like three minutes to get here, I kind of live on the other side of campus,”

“I gave you five,” he replied without looking up, “And for your commute, I consider that generous.”

“You haven’t struck me thus far as generous.”

He clicked his fancy-pants pen shut and leaned on his folded hands. You were sure that if the angle at which he pressed forward was measured it would be perfectly even. “Sit.”

You plopped into the chair with an unceremonious poof, the velvet wheezing with air as you sank in. You kicked your legs up over the armrest. Following a National Treasure style series of sliding wood and metal clicking, Ren’s hand returned and placed something on the desk towards you.

It was leather, all the way around with a silver belt buckle in the back. Two layers of padded leather lined the inside and were skirted with lace, the silver bolts holding it together glimmering in the office’s low light. The two-inch silver ring clicked against the desk as he set it down.

“Is there a problem, Miss Y/L/N?”

You snapped your eyes up. The look he offered you was effortless, completely sane and serious about the accessory that was still sitting in plain sight, “Yes,” you scoffed, “As a matter of fact there is, are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Ren sat back in his executive chair elbows resting unfazed on the arm rests. He watched you without response as from behind him on the shelf, a tuft of ash fell to the incense dish.

“Well?!"

His lip curled in mild amusement as his gaze lingered again on the collar. “Not a fan of lace?” he mused.

“This has nothing to do with my preferences for intimates!” you began to flush, “And for the record, that’s none of your business!”

“Odd.” From his pocket, he pulled your unwashed panties from weeks before. They slipped around his fingers as he dangled them, “I fancied it was.”

Cheeks burning, you snatched them back, and stuffed them into your own pocket. “I thought you were busy petitioning the teaching council to get rid of Ben. Since when have you had time to torment me further with Etsy sex toys?”

“I am not in control of the council. Nor am I in control of Ben,” he said quietly. “However, I am in control of you.” He flashed his eyes to the collar. “I’ve considered your both concerns and mine to this solution.”

“You call a sex collar a solution?”

“You've never worn one, have you?”

His implication made your womanhood clench. “It's a collar,” you repeated.

“It is.”

His glibness was a fist closed around your stomach. “With all due respect, professor, I’m a woman, not an animal.”

Ren seemed to replay your words in his head as he looked at you. He adjusted his glasses to the pile of papers in front of him and went back to writing, “And an intelligent one,” he added “Not one to risk failing a class you're clearly capable in by refusing our verbal contract, I'm sure. Besides,” he tapped his pen, “Black is your color, is it not?”

You blushed, “I'm not wearing that thing.”

Ren pulled his lip taut, perhaps a tightening in his loins forced him to think about his next words very carefully. “Sit.” he said

Stomach tightening, you plopped down in the chair, sinking gradually into its plush cushion.

He finished what he was writing and stopped, amber eyes rising from his paper with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, “Do you know why I summoned you here today?”

You folded your arms, “I imagined you discovered some new way to humiliate me within twelve hours of our last rendezvous” you stole a glance at the collar, “Seems I was right,”

“In order to stay in my circuit Miss Y/L/N,” he spoke slowly, “you must maintain a ninety percent. Those are Corellia’s standards, not mine.” he turned the page he was scribbling on around. It was filled with handwritten notes and numbers in near perfect calligraphy. He tapped his pen on it, “At the time of our initial arrangement, you grade was a solid seventy-six and dropping. Following our encounters,” he made a strong underline under a new set of numbers, “you’ve accrued a total of point two percent.”

“What?!” Your stomach dropped. “Point two per--!”

“--continue to participate,” he continued without hesitation, “and you'll receive five.”

“Professor--!”

“Five--” he iterated “--percent. Five point zero. Consider it a reward for your loyalty.”

You stopped. Unsure if it was the reveal of your grade in the class being so low or the amount he'd give you for putting on a sex collar that stopped you. Five percent, you thought, the beginning of perhaps maybe the end of his. Possibly. Hopefully. The only thing orbiting your brain was that the professor was quite possibly kinkier than you realized or a very elite member of the furry and or BDSM community; both things worthy of equal terror and amazement.

Without taking your eyes off of him, you got back up to your feet.

The collar felt heavier in your hand as you lifted it, trying not to look at Ren as you turned it over in your hands. If you didn't do this, you'd be a pussy. And if you did, you'd also be a pussy. _You're failing, idiot, put it on. Professor Ren has a monster dong. Stop it!_

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened the buckle and held each side in your hand. You pushed your hair back and pressed it around your neck, pulling the leather strap loosely through the buckle and dropping your arms. Exhaling, the pressure melted away and you regained your crappy composure. “There,” you scratched your neck under the lace, “The collar is on.”

He blinked slowly, the tension that hung in the air growing thick between your eyes. In the twitch of his lip, you entertained the image of yourself through his perverted gaze. It didn't work or help. Ren rose to his feet. “Turn around.” he droned, “And take the rest off. Leave your intimates.

You obeyed until you had your back to him before slowly shucking your zip-up and dropping it onto the chair. Then, one at a time, articles of your clothing followed tank top, sweatpants, even your socks. You paused again waiting for his validation.

His eyes were like ice cold mage hands re-familiarizing themselves with your half-naked form as you stood with your back to him. His presence approached you with a tapping of his Oxford shoes until you found yourself just inside the musky aura of his cologne. A pair of surprisingly warm hands reached up and lifted the collar's buckle.

Without warning, Ren tugged the collar tighter. You gasped as an unexpected jolt of bliss traveled from your neck to your gut, pooling hot inside of you. The leather breathed back as you took another breath, jaw trembling with adrenaline against his broad hands. Fastening the buckle, he released you, moving his hands along the leather until he reached the loop of your hair that was still trapped. He pulled it out and it tickled your shoulders under his hands.

His next breath shuddered against the back of your neck as he stroked down your shoulders and when you pulled them together, your bra straps wilted towards his fingers. He opened his lips and from them came a heated sigh, “You're calm,” he whispered. “For someone who claims to be humiliated. Tell me, kitten..do you like your collar?"

You grimaced, “It's tight,”

Ren pushed his fingers under the collar and moved them from back to front, “I see that..” he murmured. “Bend over. Spread your legs.”

You turned over your shoulder and from the corner of your eye, you saw a white blur, “W-wait why?”

Ren seized your jaw and turned your head back to the front, “I issued you a compliment in regards to your compliance,” he leaned forward until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “Don't make me rescind it. Bend. Over."

Your torso nearly fell limp as he pushed you down, a stretch pulled harder up the backs of your thighs. His hand moved across the flesh of your blushing rear, pushing your cheeks up around the strap of your last clean thong. He swatted his hand suddenly against you and you held in a pleasured whine. With one finger, he pulled your thong tighter before slipping it down to your thighs. They dropped to the floor and he nudged you until you stepped out

You flushed, “You don't plan on keeping those too, do you?”

“You took the pair I wanted,” he replied. “However I have no objection to a fresher scent,”

You felt his hand move across your rear, pushing your plumpness and squeezing you tight. He pulled your cheeks apart and you gasped, feeling something very cold and wet smear itself on your anus. You gasped sharply, squeezing tight, but his voice rolled down over your spine,

“Relax.”

You did, and before your next breath, something entered you and tickled the backs of your thighs. Pleasure tingled where your rectum was opened, clenching desperately over the cold metal plug. You rocked your hips back, and the tickling sensation moved from left to right, then back again.

Before you could protest, something pinched your head in an arch, and when you perked up, you could see your reflection in a distant mirror. Straightening your back, you filled the view of the mirror on the back of the door. Two soft ears perked from your messy hair, and your heart reeled in your chest.

You turned sharply.

Ren was leaning back on his desk. His dark eyes seemed to moving the sleeves on their own, the cotton barely brushing his arm as it stopped at his bulging bicep. Wrapped in his closed fist was a steel length of chain and when he looked up at you, you were locked into his stare. He released his fist and the leash tumbled to its full length, placing one hand on the desk.

“Come.”

As you got closer, his eyes traveled down your body to your tummy that threatened to growl for lack of dinner. When his eyes returned to yours, he lifted two fingers and slipped them around the silver ring. He tugged you left, then right, your breath shaking as the collar tightened around you. He slipped two fingers between your thighs and in your wetness, a satisfied sigh left his lips. He pulled his wet fingers away, taking the leash's clasp in his hand. Heart racing, your eyes flashed to his thumb that pulled the spring down and clicked the leash into place. You held your shaking breath.

He exhaled slowly, hand securing a grip on the end of the leash. He tugged you gently, a gasp falling from your lips as you resisted.

“Good..” he breathed. “Up.”

When you walked towards his massive desk, you felt the tension in the leash. He kept it tight even as you put your hands on the desk and lifted yourself up, ankles dangling down, and shoulders struggling to be pulled straight. Instinctively, you kept your legs apart hands pressed to the desk between them. He watched you clench your womanhood and in reply, gripped the leash even tighter.

He pulled you toward him, eyes still locked on yours, his pouting lips hanging open in arousal. Only when you were close enough to touch did they flick down to your lips before collecting them, opening his and closing them around yours. He did this once, then again, tender, open kisses as if coaxing you to lean in deeper.

As if you had a choice--you were bound, locked in by a buckle on the back of your neck. The thought filled you with jitters that physically made your stomach curl and your womanhood ache.

With his thumb, Ren pushed the leash against your collarbone, sliding it down between your breasts. You arched yourself into him, gasping slow from between his kisses.

“I considered offering an additional two percent for the ears, but you seem to be enjoying yourself. Tell me, kitten, are you enjoying your new toys?”

“Yes, professor,”

Delighted, his grip tightened on the leash, pulling your chin up to look at him. “Good.” he barely smiled as the word left his lips, more focused on your hips as they swayed involuntarily. “Bend over,” he breathed. “Show me how wet you are..”

Your hips flexed as you obeyed, rectum pursing around the plug. You whimpered, the wet lips of your pussy tingling in the cold office air.

Two fingers pressed against your wetness, parting your lips and accessing the puddle just inside. Ren smeared your precum on your outer labia, tucking your fingers down towards your clit. His breath trembled as he dragged them back, his fore and middle finger pushing deep inside of you, drawing a gasp from your pouting lips.

“M-mmm..!” your teeth bit down hard on your bottom lip, only releasing when the pleasure that coursed through you turned into pain. You buried your face in your hands.

His fingers pushed you from the inside, the force of them entering your womanhood pushing your hips forward and letting them rock back. He kept this rhythm going, one hand with fingers curling towards your tender spot and the other pushing up and around your rear, teasing where your hole begged to close. You clenched and he purred, pressing his lips against your flushing thighs. Ren exhaled hot against your legs, tongue dragging along the warmth of your leg to the curve of your rear, riding it up until he ran out of saliva, closing his lips in a kiss.

Ren kissed you once, twice, inching so slow to your womanhood that fluttered around him. Pressing his prominent nose against your wetness, he inhaled deeply, murmuring something unholy under his breath before his lips met you. In wide, desperate stripes, he licked you of your sweetness; the hand with fingers soaked in you now pulling the leash flat against the table.

You whined again, pushing your hips back into his face, feeling his expel a short breath into your cunt. He tightened his grip on the leash, pulling your cheek closer to the table, cinching your body closer to a completely fetal position. Waves of pleasure that pulsed from your clit filled your hips with tingling, and desperation for more.

“Good, kitten..” he purred into your lips. You could feel the saliva string when he pulled away, tongue brushing against you when he licked his lips. “Very good..” he pushed his fingers back along your lips, brushing your stiff clit and folding it hard against you. You mewled as you clenched, shedding yet more slick onto his fingers. “Aren’t you my perfect pet,"

His words tied your stomach into tight, horny knots, your hips still flexing into him. Finally, you pushed hard enough to slip him back inside of you and when you sighed in relief, he pushed you harder and left himself there, turning his wrist around and letting you rock your own hips back. “Such a needy whore.” he murmured, “You'll do anything to pass, won't you? So desperate..” He pulled himself from you and lifted the leash hand, pressing the cold metal to your outer labia, nestling it in and putting the pad of this thumb on the plug. Rubbing circles with his thumb, moved the leash around your wetness and when it reached your clit, you shuddered again, dripping still on him, enough that it coated the leash with a perverted sheen. He tugged on the tail and you bucked your hips back again with a moan. “Up.”

On shaking elbows, you pushed yourself up, feeling the full force of your flushing cheeks as you sat down on the leash. Ren tugged it from side to side and you rocked your hips against it. He ran his hand along your thigh and you unfolded your legs, picking them up and leaning your back against his chest.

Ren collected you, his leash hand releasing and sliding down your tummy. He pushed his fingers back against our cunt and with all the leverage he needed, began to stroke you. Pushing you back and forth, your hips desperately curling up into his hand. He took your breast in his other hand, pinching the nipple and tugging it until it bounced back to your chest and you sighed, whimpering at the end.

“That’s right, kitten.” he breathed, “Purr for me..”

The harder your breathed, the more you teased it, the sound of growling in the back of your throat. Guttural breaths escaped you and from behind, you felt Ren tense in delight.

“Yes. Good.” his breathing grew heavier, “Good.”

Suddenly, he shoved you forward, your bare chest falling flat on his desk, breasts squishing against his papers and legs flying out behind you. You wheezed, trapped between pleasure and pain as you struggled to catch your breath. He flipped your tail up and yanked your legs back until you were bending over the desk, pussy aching as your hips arched towards him.

A strong hand unclipped the leash and you fell back down with a gasp, breathing again when he grabbed you by the collar, yanking your shoulders back off the table. When he let go, you collapsed forward again, the cold and now wet chain clinging to your back. A shifting of cloth behind you was a prelude to a fleshy warmth pushing between your folds.

Professor Ren has a monster dong.

He sank himself into you, a tight breath hissing between his clenched teeth. You mewled, stretching forward on the table and arching your back as he slipped inside like it was nothing. He held you there as he panted, his cock twitching against your walls. Retracting his hips, he watched his own throbbing girth reappear pulse as your womanhood inched around it; all from under the tail’s soft length that lay poised up your spine.

Every thrust that followed made him wet, slicking around him in precum that oozed from you. He kept one, strong hand at the base of your spine at your hip, the other wrapped tight in the chain. He continued to thrust, your breasts and tummy rubbing hard against his desk, whining moans muffled by the mahogany, “Professor..! U-ughhnn!”

He yanked back and your shoulders were lifted quickly from the desk. You tensed, choking quickly giving yourself enough time to brace your elbows on the table to relieve the strain. With your mouth open and your throat tensing, your tongue hung out over your bottom lip, wagging as Ren pressed his angle deeper.

Ren yanked you back, every thrust splattering yourself on your thighs, muttering in delicious and endless grunts. “Oh, pet,” he growled. He bounced the word on his tongue like he loved it, growing even harder with every thrust faltering only when you came, crying out before biting down on your fist, whimpering as you folded back down against the pull of the leash to the desk.

Hot cum splattered on your thighs, running warm down your curves until he caught it with his softening cock even as it oozed against you.

Only given a moment to rest, your head was lifted by the leash again. Your teary eyes, fuzzing as your mouth was pulled open. He pushed his cock between your lips, the saliva mingling with his seed. You closed your mouth around it, hollowing your cheeks and taking the last drops into your mouth.

His hand found your hair, carding his fingers slow, in admiration. “A five percent well earned..” he said slowly, “Wouldn’t you agree, kitten?”

His cock fell from your lips, “I want more,” you panted, “f-for the stupid ears.”

“I like them,” he purred, tilting your chin up, “it’s a good look for you.” He dropped you and you surrendered to the exhaustion, laying there in a puddle of your cum on his desk, tail plug still tickling the back of your spine. You felt his eyes linger on your form before taking his seat back on his side.

In your daze, you thought of your old classmate Elizabeth.

Ren scratched you behind your ears.

 


End file.
